Maxine's Story
Teen Years
***
I went into Gresham High School knowing no one. These were the World War II years, 1942-1945. We lived in the country, 6½ miles from school, with little gasoline, due to rationing. There was a bus, but it never came to my door until the next year after my graduation, when gasoline was available again. I had to walk down the hill about ¼ of a mile. Now in the spring and fall that was fine .... but much of the school year was winter and if you have ever lived in Gresham you know that the East wind blows there---cold---cold and windy and dark. We had to be at the bus stop at 7am. There was no point in combing hair before leaving for school. I used curlers every night, simply covered them with scarves until I could get out of that East wind. So the first order of the day was to fix hair. Hair spray had yet to be invented, as well as aerosol cans for that matter. Like all the other girls, I wore my hair very long.
Gresham was a union high school, which meant the students came out of the many grade school districts in and around the community. Everyone came with their own group of friends and wouldn't of course recognize someone completely new, as I was. There were a couple of girls that I knew from my neighborhood, one who was the daughter of my Mothers dear friend, and we had known each other for years .... but I considered them acquaintances rather than friends .... we didn't have much in common. It took at least a year to bond with a "best friend". Donna Holmes was in the class ahead of mine, and I don't remember what brought us together .... she was a beautiful, and popular girl (we didn't have much in common), but we did become really good friends. It wasn't easy. I could only attend extra curricular events and activities (like sports), if I walked home afterwards and indeed I did that occasionally. But the lack of gasoline was a real deterrent. Donna lived in another direction and it was hard to find time together. We did as much as we could under those circumstances ....
We had no telephone and just one car ... actually nobody had more than one car ..... Ours was an old Studebaker .... my dad really liked Studebakers, and never got over it until they quit making them ... There were no cars built throughout the war years.
Rationing meant that we did without a lot of things. The Military received the manufactured goods, like vehicles and tires and the gasoline. They got the meat and sugar and so many of the good foods that we were used to, even the candy bars and gum ... But because we lived on a farm we had no real hardship. We raised our own meat and gardens and kept a cow and chickens. My Mother was a very good cook and made butter and cottage cheese, baked all kinds of desserts, using honey or whatever sugar she could save up, and canned and preserved a lot things in ways that we would not use now. We had no refrigeration, but if you have never had it, you just don't fully understand what you are missing. And of course they weren't even being manufactured until after the war ended.
An example of preserving was the way she took care of a butchered pig. She ground up much of the meat into sausage---then seasoned it, made patties and fried them. She placed those in a stone crock and poured pork fat (lard) over them. We ate those sausages all winter. She would just dig them out of the fat and fry them again! Delicious! Because they waited for cold weather to butcher, some of the meat could be kept (outside) if properly hung so that the animals couldn't reach it. They also smoked the bacon and hams ... Given today's standards, one is left to wonder how we survived! She canned com and beans by the hot boiling water method, 3½ hours in a double boiler. Today we would consider that a suicide attempt---and I don't think that we would care for the taste either.
Later on we were able to rent a locker in a freezer storage building, where we kept our meat. We thought it to be a wonderful innovation!
We preserved eggs in what was called heavy water. To this day I don't know just what that means. But if you had extra eggs and could see a dry spell coming where the chickens quit laying, or you sold your hens in order to make room for the next years layers, those eggs in heavy water, looked and tasted awfully good.
We actually had an egg business. My parents kept over 100 laying hens, and because I was the oldest child, it was my responsibility to gather the eggs and also to clean the chicken house. I'd always liked chickens so that first part was actually fun. Dad believed in raising large chickens---always said "If you're going to feed a chicken make sure that it is large enough to feed you back." The Barred Rock, or the Rhode Island Reds were his favorites. We never once had the White Leghorns that are the standard layers of our day, (and who lay the white eggs). Ours laid brown ones.
In the summer when those big old hens got broody, it was a challenge to take their eggs. They sat on them and defied anyone to reach in. You couldn't be timid about it or all was lost. I learned to deal with those bullies---and never got too upset about getting pecked---I out-bullied them!
It was the cleaning of the chicken house that I hated---that everyone hated. You just put on your worst clothes, covered your hair and nose and did it! Scraped the floor until it was clean, then covered it with clean straw. This was done regularly, though laying chickens aren't kept more than a year, to prevent disease and problems, they had to be kept clean.
Each spring we would get a new order of chicks and start the cycle again. We got the unsexed chicks because we needed the roosters for the table. Our favorite chicken dinner was the capon. We seldom see or hear of capons today, but they were common in my family in the 1940s. They are considered a luxury because of their price-and a delicacy because of their flavor and tenderness. And they were huge in size.
Mother bought a kit that had the instructions and learned how to make a capon. You picked out the young male chick at the right age, just as their maleness became evident. He was tied head and legs and wings, to a block. Then with your fingers, you found the ribs, counted off the right number, shaved a spot, and made a small incision. Prying that open you reached in with a small tool that looked kind of like an elongated eyelash curler---but was electric! When the two ends came together there was a small electric current that burned of the little white "eggs" that made the chick a rooster. I didn't know the correct name of that small organ then, nor do I know now, but I suppose that they were like testicles. What I did know was this---if that chicken lived it would be the best chicken dinner there ever was! However, if it looked droopy in a couple of days, it immediately became a fryer, and off went the head.
I learned to clean chickens quickly and with any fuss. In recent years I've had the occasional experience of cleaning game hens, like ducks and pheasants, and have realized what a miserable nasty job it is---and how much we owe the nice man in the meat department, or the processing plant who brings us our poultry in such neat white packages.
I never tired of eating eggs. I used to come in at noon, if the location of the current job was right, and fry 7 or so for lunch. My Mother has told me how my siblings used to complain that she cooked for me. She said ''well, I guess I did---you always made such a fuss over favorite dishes that it was just fun to fix them." I loved her cooking and ate with great enthusiasm ... And I understood the old adage, you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar!
I also had another job on that little farm. We kept a milk cow and every year she produced a calf. It was my job to feed the calf and to train it to drink out of a bucket. My Mother advised me to never learn how to milk a cow. She said that if I did, I would have it to do! And I believed her.
Each spring in those years, the smelt ran heavily in the Sandy river, and were available to anyone who just dipped them out. Those little silver fish were so delicious when fried crisp---We all enjoyed them. My family today has such diverse and picky tastes. I doubt that many of them would appreciate smelt. Certainly not my grandchildren! We thought that they were a wonderful gift from nature---and the same with huckleberries or any other wild berry or game---whatever was free actually!
It was the war that defined my teenage years. It became a reality to me when we began black outs---covering our windows at night, and even the headlights of our cars for a while. First we tried green paper and then blue. I believe that was so unsuccessful that eventually it was abandoned. But the covered windows were not. I remember a knock at the door one night and a stranger standing there telling my parents that he could see a crack of light in the window. Well! That news was poorly received by my Dad who had a nasty temper. There was an exchange of words about whether or not we were endangering national security! I'm afraid that the poor spotter may have had to report a failed mission.
Dad was too old to serve in the Military and by brother was too young. They had a rating system for the draft. "I-A" meant that you were on your way at age 18 years of age---the army wanted you. "4-F' meant that they didn't want you. Dad's rating was somewhat short of 4-F, but not much. In fact, later on when there was a real all out effort to win the war, they began to use dogs for intelligence purposes. There was a rating system for them also. Re: a German Shepherd would be I-A. I remember only that the Pekinese had a pretty low rating, and it was in fact the very same one that my Dad had. We thought that was hilarious, he did not!
At school the older boys were dropping out and joining the armed services. It was then that the war became a reality for me. We had "assembly" once a week and they would occasionally ask the senior class to stand up while they read the names of the boys who had been killed in action.
It was also common for my older classmates to drop out and go to work in the shipyards. I thought that would be a fine way to serve my country (and to make some money), but when I told my Dad that I was going to do it, he said "Oh no you're not", and that was the end of that.
Moving into that berry country gave me job opportunities that I had never even thought of before. I began that first summer and continued throughout my high school years, working on the surrounding farms. I hoed and trained berries, then of course, picked them. Also I planted the late summer broccoli, cauliflower, and cabbage. That was a favorite job because it meant riding on a planter and just placing the small plants into a furrow that the machine made. It took speed and coordination, but the boss liked my style I guess, because I got to ride that planter whenever it was used.
Because I lived right in the neighborhood, I could work long hours every day. And I did just that. I became the top berry picker on the Fred Baker farm. The last year I picked, I set a goal of at least 200 lbs a day, and did it. At about 5 cents a lb. That was good pay for the 1940s. We began in June with strawberries, then raspberries, logans, boysens, and then blacks. We didn't pick many raspberries .... .I don't think that even I could have picked 200 lbs of raspberries a day.
The story of my berry picking experiences wouldn't be complete without mention of James Baker. James was the bosses brother. A tall gangly good looking boy about my age, who was retarded. Sweet and harmless and a friend to everyone. Somewhere along the way, he decided that I was his girl friend, or, as he would say, "dirl fren". He used to bring me a piece of candy and hang around helping me pick berries. Well, I wasn't stupid. I didn't discourage him---not only did he pick for me, but he also carried all my crates into the shed, and that saved me a lot of time! I used him shamelessly, but he seemed very happy about it and certainly I was. He was never any problem to me at all. Since I bought all my clothes throughout my teen years, that money was rationed out very carefully. ( I've tried to remember just how much farm labor paid, and I believe it was about 75 cents an hour) I also had to cover all my personal need and activities---Christmas, movies, or whatever luxuries I may have wanted. There was no asking parents for money ..... they didn't have it, or at least mine didn't.
The one big item that I remember buying was a portable electric record player. Our music was either on radio, or on records (78s). We didn't yet have the 33s or the 45s, as they were called. Those old 78s were very easily scratched or broken and the quality was terrible, but of course we didn't know that! We did know that there was a darling young man whose singing made us swoon---his name was Frank Sinatra! I thought my Mothers infatuation with Bing Crosby was pretty dumb. I also liked the big bands .... Benny Goodman and Glen Miller ....
The radio was very important in our lives. This of course was before television or any of the electronic devices that we now take for granted. We would gather around and listen carefully and visualize what we were only hearing. My family liked the Ozzie and Harriot show, Fibber Magee & Molly, and Red Skeleton's show. And of course, the day time soap operas. Probably every woman in America listened to One Man's Family, Stella Dallas and Ma Perkins. There again there was morality taught in every episode. (I began to listen to them after I was married, but soon realized that those beloved characters, who we all identified with, never learned from their mistakes. They repeated them over and over, doomed by their weaknesses! So one day I sadly turned them off, and never listened again.)
My favorite radio shows were the dramas, like Lux Radio Theater. They produced hour long programs of a more serious nature.
Lux was the name of a soap that we all used. At that time detergent had yet to be invented. When we said soap, we meant soap. Shampoo was soap, and a poor cleaner for hair---very difficult to rinse out completely. My Mother would always feel of my freshly washed hair and make me rinse it again---and again. Since we had to heat water on a wood stove, that was very aggravating.
There were a lot of things not yet invented, and on looking back, it does cause one to wonder how we ever managed---before nylon and all the synthetics that we now use in our households and in our industries. We had natural substances, like cotton, wool silk, rubber and leather. We had no plastics, nor jet engines, and maybe most important no antibiotics. I believe that penicillin was developed during WWII, but we had no knowledge of it at that time. The drugs that we use today for good or for bad, were not even in our vocabulary. We relied on sulfa, quinine, aspirin and our Mother's old fashioned ways, like mustard plaster, caster oil and Lydia E. Pinkham. I actually drank several big bottles of that infamous, nasty tasting tonic, 2 ozs at a time. It was given to women and young girls to regulate their menstrual cycles. The saying was that there was a baby in every bottle. WELL! I certainly hoped not. I was about 12 years old and had just figured out where babies came from and was pretty sure it wasn't from drinking Lydia E. Pinkhams.
There were of course, drugs, though none ever entered my world. I never saw a doctor nor a dentist except at school check-ups a couple of times, until I was married and pregnant.
I've heard stories about our grandmothers use of paregoric, which we now know as opium. It was available without a prescription and was given freely to fussy babies. If grandma had a load of laundry, or needed a good nights sleep, a good dose of paregoric and all was quiet for hours .... You have to sympathize. Actually this was more recent than my grandmother's time. I have friends, not much older than I am, who admit that they used it.
I was maybe one of the dumbest teenagers alive---or most innocent! My Mother wouldn't have known how to educate me in ways of the adult world, and I would have died of embarrassment if she had. (We did use the word sex---it designated male or female). But she did try. She bought "TRUE EXPERIENCES" magazines and encouraged me to read them. I got an education all right and over the years, when I've thought about it, I've realized that those magazines weren't all that bad. There was morality taught on every page---you stayed pure and a lifetime of happiness awaited you. You messed up even once and you were pregnant and your life was ruined forever. It was a powerful message on my 13 year old mind and helped keep me out of trouble! I remember my first kiss. That cute boy's name was Tommy Mayer and we were 13 years old. We were walking on the road to my home, though I can't remember where we had been. He asked if he could kiss me and I told him "no, we aren't old enough to do that"---but he laughed and kissed me anyway! I received a lot of teasing for that---he kissed and told---but over the years I've realized that I was right. We weren't old enough!
In Ontario I was able to walk to a movie theater, so when I could get 10 cents together, I could occasionally see a show. The ones I remember are Gene Autry and Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. I remember going to the movies with my Mother only twice (and never with my Dad). The first time was in Ontario and the show was "The Five Little Peppers'. She not only took all of her 4 children, but she also took 3 or 4 of her friends kids ... As we were trying to get everybody seated she heard someone whisper "Are all those kids hers?" She looked at the woman and said "Yes, and I left the big ones home taking care of the little ones!"
The years we moved around a lot put us in very small towns where there were no theaters. There was one exception, and that was in the 7th grade when we lived near Pendleton. A movie came along that she just had to see---and she decided that I was old enough to go with her even though the movie contained a bad word. It was the first motion picture that we ever saw in color. Technicolor it was called. And sure enough, we heard Rhett Butler say it---"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." Such a furor that caused. "Gone With the Wind"---I'll never forget the wonder of it. Somehow Roy Rogers and Gene Autry were never the same.
After we moved to Portland we had access to theaters again. We lived on McKinley road in Pleasant Valley. Our little farm was the last place with a Portland address, at the very end of the road. Across the street was Gresham. The theaters, and there were 3 that I remember, were in the Lents area, about 4 or 5 miles away. We got rides any way we could, or sometimes we just walked. Soon Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire had replaced those singing cowboys! I loved the musical, and they were very popular at that time. It was after I started high school that I realized my need for a specific wardrobe. My cotton dresses from grade school weren't going to work any longer. I needed pleated, plaid skirts, pull-over short-sleeved sweaters and white dickey collars. Peter Pan style. And I needed most of all, Armishaw shoes. Those were saddle shoes, off white and brown, and had a distinctive look. You couldn't have a substitute. They cost $10, and were available only at the Armishaw Shoe Co. downtown. That was a lot of money but we got them---every girl in that school, I believe. And all the other schools in Portland and vicinity.
A check with my senior year book reveals that out of the 106 girls in that class, only about 6 did not have the sweater on. (Though there were a few with pearls instead of the dickey collar.) I'd be willing to bet that if we could see their feet, most would be wearing Armishaw saddle shoes. There were a few wooden shoes, or clogs, and a few penny loafers, but we all wore bobby-sox.
By my senior year I was involved in a few activities .... those where I could still take the bus home. I sang in the Glee Club, worked as an usher (and wore a uniform), and worked in the first aid room, a Girls League Activity. We held a gymkhana, an exhibition of the various gymnastic activities, with 400 participants. It was the largest project ever to be undertaken at Gresham High. I was one of the announcers. I've wondered why I didn't join the sports teams like basketball or volleyball, which I really liked. After looking at the year book, I understand why. There weren't any, for the girls anyway. Boys football was the big deal in Gresham.
There was one football player that Donna and I decided to focus on, Dean Metzger. We thought that he was the cutest of them all, and every time we saw him we would say in unison and in our silliest little girl falsetto voices, ''H-E-L-L-O D-E-A-N", and he would blush and duck his head. I don't think he ever spoke to us or to anybody else. He was a big dumb jock and we made his life miserable---but then that was our intention.
Probably the most fun I had in high school was participating in an Operetta. It was a musical comedy, about a sanitarium and it's residences, called "Oh Doctor". We were a great success---my Mother even came to see it. Undoubtedly the only time she visited the high school, (except for the gymkana.) And I'm not sure about that. She just wasn't one to support the school system, nor was my Dad.
My friend Jeannie Eklund and I were cast in the roles of two old ladies, in wheelchairs. We had long black dresses, and our long hair piled into granny knots, and powdered heavily. She stole every scene I was in, including all my lines. She was a natural. I was not and that was the end of my acting career ... Interestingly, I have had no contact with her until a few years ago, when I heard that she was living in Tigard. She confirmed what I had heard. She has a severe case of Multiple Sclerosis and is confined to a wheelchair, and has been for many years. Her situation was so precarious that I did not try to contact her further. Nor did I tell her that I had received a similar diagnosis in 1980. A strange set of circumstances.
An interesting situation happened in the casting of that play. We had one black student (Negro, in those years). Apparently no one had ever told Gresham that that could be a problem. He was just about the most popular kid in school. (And he was not an athlete). He was an extremely talented musician, and has gone on to great success in the music world. He was vice president of the senior class.
Floyd tried out for our Operetta and since the play called for a black porter, the director assumed that he would take that part. He would not. He said that he had spent his life trying to overcome stereotypes. I remember Miss Babler being quite frustrated, but finally coming up with a solution. There was also a part for a Mexican---so she just painted Floyd with a layer of white and put a large sombrero on his head and he was a fine Mexican! She then had to put black make-up on a white boy to get her porter, but it worked and we all thought it was great fun.
My classes were easy and I got good grades except in a civics sort of class where although I listened attentively and enjoyed it al but somehow couldn't relate anything I'd heard to the tests that the teacher gave. It was my last class of the day. On report card day, you simply carried your card with you and each teacher would fill in your grade. By the time I got to Social Studies, or whatever it was called (can't quite remember that either), I had an honor roll report card---grades in the upper 90s. My poor teacher was clearly distressed. Her grade for me would keep me off the honor roll! She couldn't figure it out and neither could I. I liked her and the class---seldom missed school, looked like I was capable of getting a decent grade, but could not. She would give me 10 points or so, just to make it an "honorable mention" card.
I've felt since that I received a poor education. We had to learn "facts" only long enough to be tested and then could quickly forget---we were never taught to read and analyze and discuss and debate---in other words, to think. No one ever suggested that I should go on to school. I had wanted to be a nurse, but had no understanding of how to go about it. Of course there was no money either. We girls were expected to marry and have children and stay home and raise them.
There were events that changed the world in my 17 year. President Franklin D. Roosevelt died. He was the only president that I could really remember. He had served almost 4 terms---and was considered by half the country to be a God and by the other half to be the devil himself. I remember that when the announcement of his death came, we were in school, and there were those who cheered. I felt that was inappropriate, and was saddened at the death of a president, however much we disliked him, and also I felt a fear for our country. The war was still being fought---though Germany was close to defeat. In the Pacific theater the Allied forces had turned things around and the Japanese were being driven from the Islands they had invaded. We were winning the battles in the air and at sea. The problem was that the Japanese people could not, or would not honorably surrender. And there was much talk about the coming invasion of the Japanese mainland. There were estimates of the cost of that invasion in lives---on both sides. We heard the horror stories coming from the Islands of the South Pacific, where fighting forces would rather die that surrender. Now we had a new President, HarryTruman, unknown to most of us---and it was a fearful time.
On June 6, 1944, our news sources, radio and newspaper, told us about the now well known "D-Day". The Allied forces in Europe had invaded the coast of France, Normandy, and were driving the Germans back. It was the beginning of the end, but as yet, there was no armistice. Finally on May 9,1945, Nazi Germany collapsed, Hitler was dead, by his own hand, and the fighting ceased. We had yet to learn of the extent of the evil that had been inflicted on those nations and peoples who Hitler deemed undesirable. Six million Jews dead and unknown numbers of others. It was correctly named a holocaust.
At home, we celebrated VE (victory in Europe) day while dreading what was to come in Japan. Our classmates were preparing to enter that war as they turned 18 (and graduated) Some had dropped out and joined. Others dropped out and went to work in the shipyards or in other essential jobs. I counted the boys in my senior class yearbook, there were 68, compared to the 106 girls.
I was dating a couple of dropouts, though we didn't use that term then. Nor did we think that it was such a terrible thing. They were building ships---and that seemed to make it all right.
The only boy in my high school who asked me for a date was a good looking guy that I considered my friend .... but for some reason, I told him no. I heard later that he became a doctor and a Naval Officer. I saw him at a class reunion, and he was so drunk that he couldn't hold his head up. I felt a sadness for him but a sense of relief for me that I wasn't in any way involved in his life.
It was the age of innocence there were no drugs, or gangs, or riots, or long hair, or shootings, or even bad language in our high school. I never knew anyone that got pregnant out of wedlock. Surely there was alcohol, though not in my world. I did hear that the quarterback drank beer at parties and I rather doubted it. I couldn't understand why any athlete would weaken his body with that stuff. We got into trouble at school by being late, or chewing gum.
We wore skirts and dresses---the boys wore corduroy pants and argyle sox. I remember those pants. They were a creamy color, almost light yellow. They were worn with a cuff. The challenge was to go as long as you could without washing them! This was a real problem with Mothers. It was said that the pants were just about "right"when they could stand by themselves. The problem was that Mothers would wash them if they could ever get the chance. The boys did whatever it took to keep them from it, and were ashamed and apologetic if they ever had to wear a pair of clean ones---disastrous! They wore button down shirts and sweaters and penny-loafers with the brightly colored argyle sox. Yes, the shoes had a penny in them. And no, we didn't have tee-shirts then. We had undershirts, but it was the military that gave us the tee shirt as we now know them. And those weren't printed with anything, cute or otherwise. Mostly they were just white. There were some blue jeans, but not the famous Levi look that we have now, nor the tight shrink look ....
There were those who smoked cigarettes, though not among my friends. That was adult activity. I had an incident that should have embarrassed me but somehow I felt justified..... As I was working in the first-aid room one day, a couple of girls came in and suddenly I was aware of a terrible odor .... one that I didn't recognize. I proclaimed that something stank---made quite a fuss about it really, and fmally threw open a window to get fresh air. Later one of the girls explained to me that it was the other one, who smoked. Well! I just felt that anyone who smelled so bad, ought to be made aware of it!
We made our mistakes, my generation. If you look at my yearbook, you will notice that there are no Japanese faces. This in a community where there was a large population of Japanese people. Our Government had them behind barbed-wire, in relocation camps! I never knew any of them, they were taken from their homes and farms at just about the same time that we moved into Pleasant Valley. The berry farm where I worked was owned by Japanese people, Fred Baker was operating it only until their return after the war. Those people were United States citizens. Our children ask how this could happen. I can only say what I remember, and what was told to me. In 1942 there was panic and fear. We had been attacked and didn't really know what to expect. Rumors ran rampant. The Japanese people who lived in my neighborhood may or may not have been typical, I don't know. I only know what I was told by my friends. The older members of their families never learned English, were thereby unable to mix and mingle with the community. They kept their own customs, social life and religion etc. As they retired, they went back to Japan, while the younger ones stayed to work the farms, until it was their turn to retire. Their "loyalty" was apparently to Japan. Of course the young people learned English and attended schools and became assimilated. But when the rumors started about ham-radios that could reach Japan and various acts of sabotage, it was easy to blame the whole race. They were so easy to identify. And of course it was also rumored that they were themselves in danger from angry "whites" .
President Roosevelt was a liberal Democrat, and it was his decision! There was not great opposition to the plan that I can remember. It was shameful, though even now, I have no doubt that had Japan won the war, those Japanese Americans would have dropped their American status rather quickly.
Japan was winning that war for the first 2½ years. Our young men went willingly into the armed forces those first weeks after December 7th. They lined up around the block to volunteer. There were a few conscientious objectors, but for the most part, they knew what they had to do ---and they did it.
In August, 1945, President Truman made a decision that to this day is controversial---but to those of us who were involved, there was little doubt that he made the right one. He chose to drop the Atom bomb on a Japanese city, and then about 5 days later, dropped another one. Overnight the war ended. We were stunned. We know nothing of any such thing as an atom bomb. A force so terrible that even today we can't imagine it. The Japanese government had no choice---somehow now they could surrender and "save face".
The joy and the relief that encompassed our nation! The joy and relief that filled my heart! I was dating the man that I would marry. He had just turned 18 and was preparing to go into the army and to be involved in the invasion of Japan! Now it was over---really over. Though of course the draft continued and the occupation forces were sent to both Japan and Germany as well as Italy and various other places around the world. The killing had stopped however and the healing and rebuilding began.
I had graduated in June---and because my Dad encouraged me to find something other than farm labor, I went in to the "new" Sears store, on Union Ave. and applied for a job. They had just built that big store and it was a very popular place to shop. We didn't know about Malls then, and the main source of shopping was downtown Portland.
I was hired and given the choice of office work or sales. I asked for sales, choosing to work with customers. I didn't want to work in an office at all. But I had no idea what a "notion" dept. was like! Actually I liked the ladies I worked with so much it didn't matter if notions were a pain. We had a great time, and I made some good friends.
But one day the manager of the record department went to the manager of the store and convinced him that he need me more than notions did, and I was sent to work with Eddie! My friends in notions weren't happy about that at all, but it was a good move for me. Much more fun that selling buttons and laces, and all that stuff that we had to organize and keep track of .... things didn't come packaged like they do now. Selling records was fun and I had much to learn about music. All we had ever had in our home was cowboy music. (And that is just what it was. We didn't have country, or country/western, it was "cowboy", like Roy Acuff, Ernest Tubbs, Tennessee Ernie Ford, and many others I've tried to forget.) My parents wouldn't listen to anything else. I don't know how my Mother even knew about Bing Crosby.
Eddie was a handsome young man, and gay. Though we surely would never mention that. He and I became good friends right away. He came in one morning several minutes late, and found what he thought an empty department. Couldn't see me anywhere and started to huff and puff, when he realized where I was---on hands and knees cleaning the glass case! From then on he couldn't have treated me any better had I been royalty! We had a good time. He was a very talented tenor, and used to sing the classics along with the records, when no one else was around. He had a truly beautiful voice. He taught me a lot about classical music, and I loved it then and I still do. I was never able to convince my parents that it was better that cowboy music, but I tried.
I worked at Sears while my boyfriend served in the Occupation Army in Germany. I turned 19 in March, and the following months brought him home and our marriage. And an end to my career in records. The end of my teenage years---a time of happiness for me in spite of the tragedy of the war. A historic time---an ending of the great depression---a beginning of the greatest economic growth period in all our nations history.
It was the generation that is now known as the" greatest generation"! Those men (and women) who fought that war, and the sacrificed their lives, earned that title. They literally saved our world from the evils of aggressive foreign governments ... I had no part in that. I was too young---but in a way, I was a witness to it all. They were just boys .... but now, like me, they are old, and becoming fewer in numbers. I am so grateful that there is a movement in our country to honor them. They are heroes to me---every one!
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